


desert air won't drown you out

by clippedwingsandshotguns



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Making Out, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clippedwingsandshotguns/pseuds/clippedwingsandshotguns
Summary: Poe Dameron will swear he's alright, but after a few drinks, he might just be honest enough to admit he isn't. But that's okay, neither is Finn. Maybe they can figure this out.





	desert air won't drown you out

They’re celebrating – the war isn’t over yet, but it sure as hell is close, and after the last victory that they’ve had, the Resistance is about to win by a landslide, with the First Order falling dangerously low on supplies and soldiers to send into battle. As such, a bunch of them have been granted leave, although they were all still staying alert, in the case of an emergency. It was pretty refreshing to have comms up and running, without having to worry about the First Order tracking them down. In some kind of dramatic irony, the Resistance has now spread throughout the galaxy. It took a while, but after the first ally of the Resistance had made its stand, rebel groups had started to appear in every planet and every city throughout the galaxy, until all of the First Order and its apologists had been forced into hiding. 

Satisfied and at ease, Poe leans back in his seat, downing his whiskey as he watches the scene around him. On the other side of the table, Rey and Jessika are laughing over some colourful drinks, garnished with fruits that he’s pretty sure only grows in Lothal, which is kind of impressive. He thinks so, at least, because he really doesn’t know what fruits have been costing these past year or so. Kare, he notices, is off flirting with a girl with long, dark hair and avoiding any affiliation with the rest of the squadron. They’re in Cloud City on an all-expenses-paid break, thanks to the General’s connections with Calrissian, which is great because none of them have been working for money, clearly. Sighing in contentment, Poe’s gaze lands on Finn once more.

The drinks are hitting him, and while he used to be pretty skilled at handling his liquor, he hasn’t had much of a chance to indulge lately. Being a pilot meant he needed his head clear at all times, and while he could handle the effects of endless sleepless nights, there was no way that he could manage to drink and fly. There are reasons why there are laws against that in some sectors, after all. His drink makes him feel warm, and a little light, and it’s twice as bad when he looks at Finn. Finn makes him feel warm and a little light, too, but it’s better because his vision doesn’t blur like it will after a few more drinks, which means that he can see Finn clearly. Seeing Finn is always a good thing, he thinks, smiling to himself.

“Why’re you smiling?” Finn asks, good-naturedly and a little past tipsy as well.

Poe grins wider, and Finn matches him, which makes Poe’s stomach do flips that even he can’t do on his X-Wing. 

“Nothing,” he says, waving a hand flippantly. He’s tipsy enough that it’s pleasant, but not enough that he’s about to start confessing all of the feelings he’s had for Finn ever since the man pulled him into a corner and told him that they were going to make an escape. He might be exaggerating but, in the dim light, surrounded by a few close friends and seeing Finn right there, he thinks that he might have been in love with Finn from the second that they had locked eyes.

“You can’t be that happy over nothing,” Finn says. Poe hadn’t realised how wide his grin had become, just by reminiscing. 

“Thinkin’ about how we met, and how you saved my life,” Poe says as he meets Finn’s gaze. Finn looks away, shy but smiling a little more, and Poe feels himself heat up just looking at Finn, but he can blame his reddening cheeks on the alcohol, instead of how badly he wants to lean forward and feel those lips on his.

Well, he could blame that on the alcohol as well.

He downs his glass, and it burns but he takes it well, only winces a little, and suddenly it’s all just… a little too much. Although, if he was being honest – which he almost never is, but there’s alcohol in his system and he can afford himself some honesty, at the very least – it wasn’t sudden at all. If he was being honest, everything’s been a little too much for a little too long.

“I thought I was dead… thought I was going to die,” Poe murmurs. The words were gone before he could stop them, and now they hang in the air, heavy and weighted. He never talked about this, he doesn’t have to, he never has to and he never will. “Fierfek,” he says, biting his lip and looking away, because he’s said too much. Only a sentence or two, but it’s already too much.

He blames it on the alcohol, instead of on how long he’s been running from his pain.

He flinches when Finn’s hand grips his shoulder. “Poe, you made it out. You’re alright,” Finn says, reassuring. His eyes are honest and concerned. They’re always honest and Poe could tell whenever he lied because Finn was always too honest, and Poe could as clear as day that Finn was worried. That made him want to run; hop in his X-Wing and fly away until he couldn’t be found. He wasn’t used to being worried over.

“Yeah. I did,” Poe says eventually, quiet and laces with exhaustion. His mind is too hazy for him to fake a cocky smile and compliment Finn on being a great shot that day like he would have. Should have. Instead he gets up, goes outside. He needs the fresh air, and the night breeze of Cloud City makes him feel a little clearer, although not he’s sure it isn’t enough. He’s built walls so high, but they’ve been cracking for so long. This might just be the stick that breaks the fathier’s back, he thinks.

He leans against a metal railing to look over the rest of the city, and drags his sleeves up to look at his forearms, tracing his thumb over the grooves in his skin. They aren’t as bad as they were, the bacta took care of that well enough. But he didn’t really wait for cosmetic perfection, and left as soon as he could to be back on his X-Wing and out in the skies. He hid it behind his reckless bravery and sense of justice – which isn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t going to let his squadron go into battle without him – but more than anything, he couldn’t stand the deafening silence and isolation within the medbay. The looks of concern when he had checked himself in, barely standing, and when he had woken up after some of the drugs had worn off was enough to put him back in action as it was.

Still, the scars remained when they might not have if he hadn’t been stubborn, and he has a little gift to remember the First Order by, he thinks darkly. In fact, he’s got too many to count. There were scars all around his skin, and burn marks on his abdomen, from the searing electricity that he'd been subjected to. He’s glad they didn’t fry him so much that he couldn’t fly. Running a thumb down the side of his neck, he feels another scar – it was an empty threat but he couldn’t have known, with the blindfold they’d put on him. He shivers because the night is cold. He doesn’t think about the things that didn’t leave a scratch on him. He ignores the memory of the taste of blood.

He considers going back in for another drink, so that he doesn’t have to remember. He turns around and finds Finn, standing just barely out of arm’s reach of him. Instinctively, he pulls his sleeve back down, but Finn’s not oblivious. He reaches out and Poe obligingly rests his arm in Finn’s hands.

“First Order?” he asks, and Poe notices that he’s pointedly avoiding touching the scars, as if he was worried they still hurt. ‘They don’t’, Poe thinks, but he knows that’s a lie. He nods, not trusting his voice. “There’s more, isn’t there?” Finn asks, quiet.

Poe nods again.

There’s a long moment of silence, the two of them just staring, and Finn holds Poe’s arm tenderly between them. Poe doesn’t remember when Finn got this close to him.

“You saved me too, Poe,” Finn says. It’s quiet, and if they hadn’t been standing so close, Finn’s voice might have been lost to the wind. But Poe hears this, and he doesn’t exactly believe it, so he doesn’t say anything. “The First Order was huge, and it was always expanding. I’m pretty expandable. We’re all meant to be,” he says.

"You're not–" 

"I was. In the First Order, most of us were," Finn says. "But as long as you could follow orders, they'd keep you alive. I got sent to reconditioning because I refused to finish the job. It was our first outfield training session that involved real people, civilians. We had to detain a small group of rebels, and make an example of those who housed and protected them."

Poe considers this – he’s never killed someone innocent. He’s killed the fighters he’s gone up again, and thinking about that is enough to make him feel a little unnerved. He doesn’t even have the heart to remember those who’ve died under his reckless command, without feeling bile rising in his throat. He wonders, a little scared but very concerned, about what reconditioning might entail.

"Reconditioning," Finn says, as if he could read minds like a Jedi and knew what Poe was thinking, "is like propaganda and punishment, put into one compact couple of weeks. Stress positions for hours while First Order propaganda plays endlessly on a loop… disciplinary action for a single step out of line… a medidroid reporting your vitals to a superior at all times, in case of any signs of acting out..." There's a pause, and Poe feels cold. "Shocks if you acted out. Never did that again," he says, humourlessly. "It's why they put me in sanitation... the mission on Jakku was my first real one, to see if I had what it took to be a stormtrooper."

Poe doesn't know what to say to this. There's nothing to be said that could help, and if there is, he isn't in the right mind to figure it out. "I'm so sorry, Finn," is what he settles for. He raises his hand to the side of Finn's face. It's a little too forward and yet it's hardly enough. He wants Finn to be alright. To feel safe. Poe can't do that for him, but he can stay by his side, let him know that someone's there for him. He leans into Poe's touch and the cool night feels comfortably warm for both of them.

"I want to kiss you," Finn whispers, and who is Poe to deny that. Poe rests one hand on Finn's neck, and keeps the other cupping his face, while Finn grips the lapels of Poe's jacket, and they pull each other closer like that. Their lips meet and Poe wants to deepen the kiss – wants to make Finn moan for him – but he doesn't because he may be a bit drunk, but he's still going to let Finn set the pace. Finn's lips are soft against his own, and the feel of his body, pressed between the railing and Finn's warm body makes his head spin a little faster.

Slowly, Finn pulls away, and the moment felt like a lifetime and still not long enough. Finn doesn't step back, and Poe's thankful to still have his body flushed against Finn's. It's comforting even though his body feels so hot, he thinks he might go up in flames. His thumb gently caresses Finn's cheek and he thinks he'll hold back his "I love you" for when they're sober.

Finn lets go of Poe's jacket with one hand, and covers Poe's hand with his. He gently guides Poe's hand to his lips, and presses his lips softly on Poe's knuckles. Poe nearly shivers at this. He's wanted to be this close to Finn for so long. But now he's too scared to move, scared he'll do something wrong and Finn will leave. Scared that morning will come and he'll have to hear Finn apologise because the kiss was a mistake.

"I want to see your scars… all of them," Finn says, voice quiet.

"Finn, I—" Poe protests. It's weak; he doesn't know how to say no to Finn.

"Please?" Finn asks, and Poe looks up to meet Finn's eyes, and, fuck. Those eyes were always too honest, and Poe sees how badly Finn wants him to say 'okay'. Maybe for once, just this once, he won't run away from worry. Maybe he can let Finn care just a little, just for tonight, with the alcohol still running through their veins.

"Okay."

Finn smiles a soft, earnest smile, and leans in to kiss Poe once more. The kiss is soft and brief, a show of appreciation and hopefully even love. Finn is breaking down his wall so easily and Poe is too tired to stop him. Instead, he just holds on to Finn's hand, pulls him gently towards the elevator back to his hotel room, courtesy of the General, as well. Finn's lips are on his again, in the escalator, and Poe swears his legs are about to give out below him, but he's not worried because Finn has him pinned against a wall. They're not even using tongue yet – don't rush this, Dameron – and Finn's already doing things to his head and his heart. Finn has a hand in Poe's hair and it's when he tugs at it – needy and urgent, like he wants Poe even closer – that Poe's mouth opens instinctively into a moan. Poe almost misses the beep of the elevator opening on their floor, while Finn misses it entirely.

“F-Finn…oh Maker, mmm… Finn, room?” Poe manages to articulate, albeit poorly and while groaning. His pants are getting uncomfortably tight and Finn’s body is meeting his at every point, as Finn pushes him against the wall.

“Right, right,” Finn murmurs, pulling away from Poe at last, but keeping a hand on the fabrics of Poe’s shirt, to pull him urgently into the room.

With the door finally closed behind them, Poe doesn’t even have a moment to hesitate before he and Finn are both pulling each other closer, gravitating towards each other, the same way they always had, on Starkiller Base, and on D’Qar, and every moment since. Finn’s hand presses flat against Poe’s chest, as if he’s searching for something, maybe it’s something to hold on to and maybe it’s Poe’s heart (he already has it). Poe holds onto Finn, because he’s barely standing and he’ll convince himself it’s because he’s drunk, but he knows more than anything, it’s because he’s at the mercy of Finn’s touch. He leans into the touch, presses his face into the crook of Finn’s neck. Finn’s hands scratch lightly at Poe’s chest, through his shirt, before dropping his hand to Poe’s waist and pushing his shirt up to feel his skin. Poe shivers at the touch, inhaling sharply against Finn’s neck as Finn traces his fingers up along Poe’s ribs. The low moan that Poe makes, opened-mouth and into Finn’s neck has Finn feeling a distinct heat pooling low in his stomach, a feeling he’s only felt around Poe. His eyes flutter close for a brief moment and he sighs, and Poe’s paying too much attention to Finn’s every action to have missed it. He opens his mouth against Finn’s neck, grazing his teeth lightly against the skin as he does. Finn’s grip on Poe’s waist tightens, his nails digging deeper into Poe’s skin, and Poe hisses against his skin. Instinctively, Poe shrugs his jacket off. It’s restrictive and so, so hot against his skin. He needs Finn on him – not his jacket, not his clothes – and as he moves backwards, settling himself on the bed with Finn kneeling over his thighs, hands gripping at Poe’s shirt, he can tell that Finn feels the same way. He lets Finn pull his shirt over his head, raising his arms up to make it easier.

It’s only when Finn pauses, Poe’s shirt still rumpled within his grip, and eyes scanning across Poe’s body does he suddenly start to feel severely self-conscious in his skin. Nobody, aside from the medidroids, has seen him shirtless since he’d escaped the First Order – he can barely look himself in the mirror anymore, the burn marks on his skin being a painful reminder of what happened, and that’s something he doesn’t want to remember, regardless of how often he finds himself pulled back to that moment, the droid, the isolation, the fear—

“Poe…” Finn whispers. He sounds so genuine and concerned, and Poe feels too exposed right now. He wants his shirt back, he wants to cover up the scars that trail up his arms and across his chest, and to never look at them again.

“Finn, can I…can I have my shirt back?” Poe says, voice hoarse all of a sudden. Instead of returning his shirt, Finn brings a hand up to Poe’s cheek, caresses him with the back of his fingers, before running them gently down the side of his neck and finally, tracing the scars that start at Poe’s collarbone with the tip of his fingers. Poe doesn't dare look to meet Finn's eyes, so he turns his head to the side and looks away because he's never let himself be this vulnerable before, and he's never learnt how. Finn's fingers flutter over scars that Poe refuses to acknowledge. "It's not that bad," he forces himself to say, and it comes out as a whisper that isn't convincing even to himself, not when he's still biting back his wince from the phantom pains that burn each time Finn's fingers meet scarred skin.

Finn leans forward, and he presses his lips firmly against Poe's collarbone. He's quick and clever, Poe knows this as fact, and it only takes the memory of Poe's mouth on his neck earlier for him to know how to kiss the scars enough that Poe forgets they're there, maybe even forget his own name. It works, because Poe is too caught in the pleasure to worry about feeling exposed, and he gasps as Finn bites his collarbone, just hard enough to leave a mark, and then sucks on it. How Finn learns so quickly he'll never know. He was so quick in understanding how to work the blasters on the TIE-fighter, and he's even quicker at learning how to work Poe until he's nothing but a mess of moans, low in his throat. It doesn't help that Finn seems to be oblivious whenever he accidentally pushes his leg up between Poe's, or how Poe can feel something hard and hot against his thigh each time Finn shifts lower to trace the scars with his mouth.

Poe can barely deal with any of this, he's melting into a puddle with all the friction at his crotch and Finn's lips on his skin, Finn's hands gripping his waist. He clutches at the collar of Finn's shirt, tugs him back up to meet his eyes, for a heated second where they can't bear to breathe. He pulls Finn's lips towards his, wraps an arm around Finn's neck and Finn straddles his torso.

"Finn…" Poe whispers against Finn's lips. "Do you wanna— your shirt?

Finn nods, enthusiastic as he leans back away from Poe, who whines at the loss of contact but then Finn is pulling his shirt off and Poe can't find his voice. He's suddenly become completely convinced that he will never see anything more beautiful than the sight in front of him. Finn's body may be scarred as well, but he's still undeniably beautiful and Poe can't take his eyes off every detail of Finn's body, from the dip where his collarbone is, to the smooth curves of muscle at his arms, his perfectly toned stomach and he tries to savour the image, remember it as best as he can but his head's a little hazy and his mind is quickly interrupted by Finn leaning down to meet his lips again.

Poe gets lost like this. He's not sure how much experience Finn could have in the First Order, so he's not about to rush anything. He lets Finn set the pace, and responds enthusiastically to the hands curling in his hair, and the lips that are closed over his. Eventually they slow down, and Finn finds himself pressing his face into Poe's shoulder, as Poe's hands tread lightly over his skin.

Finn giggles.

"What's so funny?" Poe asks, amusement on his lips.

"Nothing," Finn replies, so Poe lets it go, and continues tracing little patterns on Finn's skin when he giggles again.

"Wha—wait, are you ticklish?" Poe says, pressing his fingers against Finn's ribs.

"No!" Finn lies, but he laughs when Poe pokes him again, and more than that, they both know that Poe can tell whenever he lies. Poe laughs at this, and it doesn't take long before their positions are switched, because Poe isn't going to give up the opportunity to see Finn smile, not in a million lightyears. He stops when Finn is breathless underneath him, and when Finn looks up at him, eyes filled with adoration and hopefully love, Poe decides he wants to make Finn look at him like that every day of his life, if Finn would let him. His hands trail scars on Finn's body, probably the product of training and debris puncturing armour, if not, more recent battles from after they had met. He rests his palm flat on Finn's chest. The beat of Finn's heart keeps him grounded, which is good because he's getting lost in Finn's eyes. Finn places his hands over Poe's.

Poe finds himself really wanting to say "I love you", but right now, he's not sure he should, not sure if Finn will feel the same way when they're sober. He settles for saying "What're you thinking about?"

"You," Finn answers, vaguely. After a pause he continues, "Thinking about how you make me feel… human."

Poe's heart aches at this. Finn is every bit human as Poe is, but he wasn't raised to know that. He doesn't know what to say, and settles for intertwining his fingers with Finn's.

"The First Order had this rule," Finn says. "You can't remove your helmet without clearance from a superior... they don't want you to remember that you're still a person."

Poe rubs comforting circles onto the back of Finn's hand with his thumb.

"They did a lot of things. They pretty much made it really clear what we were. Soldiers, not people. I didn't even have a name before I met you."

It would be too easy to tell Finn that he is a person, he always has been. He knows that Finn knows this, from a logical standpoint. He's not sure that he can do much other than remind Finn from time to time, make sure it never slips from his mind.

"When you saved me, you took off your helmet," Poe says, voice soft. "I looked you in the eyes and even though you were armoured up like a stormtrooper, I knew right away I could trust you." Finn smiles softly at this, and Poe smiles back. "I knew, because you were never just a stormtrooper, Finn. You're a person. Human. Flesh and blood and bones, and you always have been," he says, cupping Finn's cheek with his hand.

"Didn't feel like one," Finn says, quiet. Poe bites his lip, ready to do everything in his power, if it could make Finn feel better. But he knows that's not how these things work.

Poe leans in, kisses him softly. "I'm sorry, Finn. They took that from you… but… you'll be okay, I promise," he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to Finn's forehead.

"Lie down next to me?" Finn asks, and Poe wants nothing more than to do just that. He settles down next to Finn, pulling a duvet up to their chests and wraps an arm around Finn's waist. Their legs entangle, and he rubs Finn's back soothingly. Finn sighs and melts into Poe's embrace, head tucked under Poe's chin, and Finn has never felt safer. The alcohol is making them both a little tired, and it's getting a little late, so Finn mumbles "goodnight" against Poe's chest, and Poe says the same as he presses another kiss into Finn's hair.

They fall asleep like that.

When Poe wakes up, he sees Finn sprawled next to him, with an arm just stretched across his chest. Despite the dull throbbing in his head, Poe feels an indescribable feeling of warmth as he watches Finn breathe, calm and slow and peaceful. He doesn't want to wake Finn, doesn't want to disrupt a moment so beautiful. He lies in bed a little longer, and almost falls back asleep while waiting for Finn to finally wake up.

"Hey," Poe whispers, smiling, to a still-sleepy Finn.

Finn returns the smile. "Hey. Thought I had a really good dream."

"Yeah?"

"Turns out it really happened." Finn's smile breaks into a full grin, until he winces. "Ow. Head."

Poe chuckles at this, and sits up as he says, "Alright, buddy. Let's fix you something for that hangover." His movements disturb the bed, and Finn groans at that, unhappy to move in any capacity. Poe has a headache as well, and there's the usual nausea, but he's the one with experience in these things, so he decides to power through it until he's gotten some painkillers and water, before sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Finn. "You gotta sit up, buddy," he says, and Finn groans again, but he does as he's told.

"Thanks, Poe," Finn says into the glass before handing it back to Poe, who puts it on the bedside drawer.

"I've been meaning to tell you," Poe says, nervous, and he'll blame his strange timing on the pain in his head. Finn gives him a curious look, and nods, prompting Poe to continue. Poe holds his gaze — he's this close to chickening out but he looks into Finn's eyes and he's scared but sure and comforted. "Finn, I love you."

There's a lot of confusion and conflict that Poe can see in Finn's face and his heart falls at this, but not too much. He loves Finn, and that will be the case whether or not Finn feels the same.

"Oh," Finn says at last.

"Hey. No pressure, I didn't say that because I was expecting anything, I told you I love you because it's the truth and I want you to know that," Poe says, soothing and comforting, despite his slight disappointment and anxiety that he's scaring Finn away.

"It… it's not that. I just… I'm new to all this. Being human is really new to me, and being allowed to feel… it's good, but it's confusing. I'm just not sure I know what love even is, but—"

"Hey, buddy, it's fine, you don't have to—"

"But," Finn repeats, with emphasis to keep Poe from interrupting him, "I think this might be it."

They don't say anything for a long stretched out moment, Poe in quiet disbelief while Finn watches him expectantly, waiting for a reaction. Finally, Poe manages to respond.

"Can I kiss you?"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in star wars hell! Finnpoe is real and both characters are underappreciated and treated terribly. Both Finn and Poe have legitimate reasons to be traumatised, and they both deserve to be able to recover from it, with loving support from each other.
> 
> Come talk to me about starwars and other stuff on tumblr, sw blog is finnpoegaymeron and main is casualghost


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